


beyond our ken

by inscriptionist (Two_and_a_Half_Guys)



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Kushu
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, F/M, Fem!Kaneki, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Gore, I'll include trigger warnings for each chapter as necessary, M/M, Squick, You've been warned, eventually, every chapter has body horror and gore triggers, lots of gore, more tags to be added as the story continues, please let me know if I need to add any, we just don't know, will kaneki and touka end up together?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_and_a_Half_Guys/pseuds/inscriptionist
Summary: Our tale begins much as we know it. There is, however, one primary difference.It is here, at the tender age of eighteen, that Noriko Kaneki realizes she is going to die.Based on the concept of "what if Ken Kaneki had been female?" Begins close to canon but will eventually diverge, just by virtue of how things would change. Tags may be added as the story goes on.
Kudos: 11





	beyond our ken

Our tale begins much as we know it. A book, a shy meeting in a coffee shop, a young woman. A betrayal. There is, however, one primary difference.

“You know, I prefer young men, but you’ll do just fine,” Rize says, her irises bright and bloody.

It is here, at the tender age of eighteen, that Noriko Kaneki realizes she is about to die.

One always fears predation in society, but we can assume that this was not one of the ways Noriko thought she would go: barely holding her intestines in, liver sticking to her fingers, stomach acid and chyme spilling over her hands. Fear pulses so thickly through her veins that her vocal cords refuse to scream. She can only watch, limbs jitter-tight, as the pulsing red tentacles pull her closer to her inevitable demise.

Of course, fate is frequently crueler than one would hope.

Before those teeth can pierce her skin again, the deep, hollow sound of mass hurtling through air thrums in her chest cavity. Had Noriko been conscious still, the impact of three tons of steel would likely have killed her from sheer shock.

Perhaps she should have died. It would have been kinder.

Instead she stirs from her deep slumber, and what awaits her is hunger, insatiable, relentless.

* * *

It is days later, after Noriko has finally left the hospital and its horribly made food, that Hide invites her to Big Girl.

“To celebrate your recovery!” he says, punching her lightly on the shoulder.

She smiles, and smiles, and goes. She loves Big Girl, after all; the burgers are good and the waitresses are cute, despite Hide’s teasing. What she expects is a cheerful meal with her best friend. She does not expect to hurl her lunch across the table, especially not in front of Maako-chan.

“That was _so_ embarrassing,” she groans later. Hide, ever gallant, has offered to walk her home afterwards.

“Yeah, that was super gross, Kaneki,” Hide says. So much for gallant. “Are you okay? I know that appetites take a while to recover after surgery…”

“It’s probably just that,” she says, and keeps her doubt and disagreement to herself.

Hide rambles on about school and ugh, isn’t Nakamura-sensei just so annoying?, and Noriko notices a ball roll into her shoe. She leans down and grabs it, and when she looks up she’s greeted by a mea—

No. A little girl.

She stares, too long, and the little girl takes back her ball and toddles off towards her mother. _Human musculature doesn’t function so differently from any other animal’s,_ she thinks idly.

“…Kaneki. Yo, Kaneki! Nocchan!”

“Hngh?” She finally looks up. A string of drool, unnoticed before, slops onto her chin.

“That’s _super_ gross!” Hide sputters. “Are you going to puke again?”

Half a second passes before she swipes away the drool with her sleeve and faintly says, “I think so. Can you get me home?”

* * *

She gets home, and she does, after watching Hisashi Ogura’s broadcast, after stuffing every food item in her pantry into her mouth. Pig intestines have nothing on the rest of this—gasoline, rotten tripe, sweetmeats gone bad, now mixed in with the acrid sting of bile. Her thoughts swirl in her head, half concealed by the black tendrils of panic at the edges of her vision. Her spine might snap from how tightly her neck muscles are clenched.

Noriko cleans the vomit and chunks of food from the floor of the kitchenette in an attempt to distract herself. She sanitizes every surface she finds. She even airs the apartment out. Anything to cleanse the day of what had just happened…

But the stench of stale puke has begun to linger. The mere concept of staying alone in her apartment with only her thoughts and panic and all these little reminders is unbearable. Though the streets of nighttime Tokyo are unsafe for a young woman, fresh air will do her good. Maybe.

She stays close to her neighborhood, where that little coffeeshop is; at least she knows the area well enough to run quickly if she must. However, she instinctively shrinks back when she rounds a corner and sees a man approaching a young woman. It takes a moment or two for her brain to calm down and parse why the girl’s face was familiar. She’s that waitress from Anteiku. Touka, was it?

Noriko chews her lip hard for a moment, then steels her nerves. She holds her phone at the ready, 110 already punched in, and steps back around the corner.

“Leave her alone,” she says, the faintest quiver in her voice. The man turns, his leer widening.

“Lucky me,” he says, and steps toward her. His facial expression has no time to change, and she has hardly opened her mouth to say _don’t come any closer I’ll call the police!_ , before his eyes and the crown of his head slide off and splat on the ground. Other extremities follow.

There are liquids all over the floor of the alley, blood and spinal fluid and god knows what else. Her attention, however, is fixed on Touka’s irises.

They are the same bloody horror as Rize’s had been.

Noriko only briefly sees something retract into the girl’s back before her eyes revert back to a soft brown. She is hardly recognizable as the demure waitress Hide had flirted with on the day Noriko died.

It seems Touka recognizes her as well, and for an entirely different reason.

“I—didn’t Rize get you?” she says, surprised.

_Didn’t Rize get me._

“I didn’t know you were one of us.”

 _One of us,_ the words echo. Noriko’s left eye feels strange.

“But you’ve only got one?” the girl says. She picks casually through the pieces of flesh.

_Only got one. One what?_

“Whatever. Here.” Touka is still speaking, and oh _god_ , she is holding out a forearm. The hand is still weakly twitching from leftover impulses. The stringy muscle has only just begun to clot. “You hungry?”

The wetness on Noriko’s chin is salty, hot, burning. She clamps her hands over her mouth, certain that she will be sick, but she knows the flavor of vomit all too well at this point.

What she tastes instead is drool, more than she’s ever salivated in her life, mixing with the tears coursing down her cheeks. She hungers. She is _starving_. And she cannot eat, not this, not like this.

She turns and flees. The hunger pursues her, the iron tang of blood settling inexorably into her lungs.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose to reinterpret Ken (研) as Noriko (研子), where "nori" is the nanori pronunciation of the same kanji. Noriko is also commonly seen as 法子 or 典子 (law child or ceremony child, respectively), so the alternate interpretations are still appropriate.  
> Let me know if you have any comments or feedback!  
> Ed 2021.02.07. Sorry for the lack of updates, I've had lots of life stuff going on and was really dissatisfied with this first chapter. Ended up reworking it. More chapters to come soon.


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